Beads of sweat traced down Micheal's face. That name Evander rattled in his skull like a broken bell. The memories surged all at once: the brutal gauntlet of the Selection, the blur of bodies falling around him, the moment he and Evander clashed, neither giving an inch. And then—just as victory hovered in reach—everything was torn away. The fight. The world. His entire timeline.
Micheal coughed, trying to steady his breath.
No way… It couldn't be. That Evander? From the Selection? What happened to him after…?
But the moment was burned into him—more vivid than anything else in his past. Not just because of the fight… but because it was during that battle that he awakened the Presence Eyes. Power surged through him so violently that CORE had been forced to shut down the entire Selection prematurely.
He remembered the look in Evander's eyes then—like he'd seen something ancient awaken inside Micheal.
Now, here he stood, shaking, as that name resurfaced like a ghost that had never left.
The others noticed. Micheal's breathing had turned jagged, and sweat clung to his face.
Tucker leaned over. "You good, dude?"
Micheal blinked, snapping back to the present. The chamber, the orb, the team, all still there.
He nodded quickly, forcing a breath. "Yeah… yeah. I'm fine.
Sage's eyes lingered on Micheal a moment longer before drifting back to the orb.
"They say Evander was one of the most gifted fighters ever chosen for the Selection," he said quietly. "He served CORE's army for over thirty years… eventually earning the title 'The Next Guardian.'"
The room shifted. Even ZE210, who usually buzzed with energy, fell silent with interest.
"But there was one thing he could never grasp," Sage continued. "Something every Guardian before him had mastered—the Presence Eyes. He trained for decades, pushed himself beyond the limit, but no matter what he did… he couldn't awaken them."
He paused.
"And after that? The records go dark. His name fades. No death confirmed. No mission logs. Just… gone."
The silence that followed hung heavy until Shirley finally spoke.
"You said Choreees only exists if this exists?" he asked, nodding toward the floating orb. "What did you mean by that?"
Sage exhaled slowly. "As long as the final piece of CORE's heart remains intact—still pulsing—Choreees holds together. The land, the structures, the very fabric of its existence is tethered to him."
He turned, meeting the group's eyes.
"But the moment the last fragment dies… Choreees collapses. Everything falls into the abyss."
Damn…" Shirley muttered, trying to process what they'd just heard.
Micheal stepped forward, eyes locked on the orb. "I… know him."
Everyone turned toward him. Confusion washed over their faces, like he's a mad man.
Sage narrowed his eyes. "That's not possible. Evander lived centuries ago—he's nothing more than a relic of history."
Micheal didn't blink. His voice was steady, but underneath it, tremors of memory echoed. "No. I know him. I was in the Selection. I fought Evander."
Tucker raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what's the Selection?"
Micheal inhaled deeply, like the air itself might give him the courage to speak. "It was CORE's twisted version of a tournament. A way to pick out the most 'capable' from those who were… chosen. We were abducted ripped out of time and forced to fight. Not just random inmates, but other people plucked from different worlds, eras, lives."
He paused, eyes distant. "Most didn't make it. Some fought for just the sake of fighting. Others just fought to survive. But Evander… he was different."
FLASHBACK FROM NARRATOR
It began with a charge.
Micheal, younger and far less certain than the man he'd become, lunged forward with a dagger clutched in trembling hands. His target: a man named Evander. Selected like him. A stranger that he had met not too long ago.
But Evander moved at the last moment, stepping aside with ease. His counterattack was swift—one well-placed punch to Micheal's chest that hurled him backward. The stone floor met him like a hammer. Pain flared across his back.
Micheal got up, vision blurring. Evander stood still, unreadable. Calm.
"You're out of your depth," Evander told him. His voice wasn't cruel—but it didn't offer mercy either.
Frustration surged in Micheal's chest. He charged again, slashing wildly with the dagger. Evander didn't even flinch. He caught Micheal's wrist, forced him to drop the blade, and shoved him down.
"Stay down," Evander warned.
But Micheal wouldn't. He couldn't. Something in him refused to yield. Again and again he got up, and again and again, Evander put him down. The air was thick with tension, with the unspoken dread of those watching—other inmates, prisoners like them, caught in the same game. And above them all, CORE watched with a grin, enjoying every second of it.
Micheal went in once more, only for Evander to shoulder him to the ground, pin him, and hammer his face with a punch that numbed his senses. The world spun. Blood splattered. Evander's fists kept coming, each strike echoing across the cold arena.
The inmates gasped. CORE laughed.
And still, Micheal endured.
Something inside him burned something that refused to die. He clawed at Evander's face, just enough to force him back. His limbs trembled. His ribs ached. But he got to his knees, barely able to breathe.
"Stop it, Evander…" he gasped. "Just… stop fighting for yourself."
The words cracked out of him like broken glass. His vision swam, his voice faltered. He was bleeding, both inside and out.
"You were going to kill me," Micheal said, pain and disbelief colliding in his voice. "One more hit, and I'd be done… But we shouldn't be fighting each other. We should be fighting for everyone. We can find another way. Another game. Maybe even get out of here—together."
For a moment, Evander hesitated. But then his expression hardened.
"Fighting for myself?" he snapped. "I'm fighting for everybody here!"
Micheal looked up, stunned. And Evander's fury exploded.
"We've suffered enough! All of us!" he shouted. "I can't take it anymore!"
His rage filled the arena. The crowd went silent.
"I've suffered too—" Micheal began, but Evander cut him off with a roar.
"NO, YOU CLEARLY HAVEN'T! If you had, you'd already know what needs to be done! You'd make the sacrifice! You have to die—for us to live!"
The words cut deeper than any blade. Micheal laughed bitterly, in disbelief.
"Me? Die? You're insane." His voice shook. "You're an idiot if you think I'll just roll over and let that happen. Maybe you should try putting yourself in someone else's shoes for once in your damn life!"
That broke whatever restraint Evander had left. He tackled Micheal again, and the two crashed to the floor, wrestling with desperation and pain.
"Watch your mouth, you bum," Evander growled, pinning him down. "Things die. People die. Sacrifice is part of life. And for the sake of everyone here you need to make the sacrifice."
But Micheal's hands gripped Evander's shirt, holding on like a man possessed.
"For the sake of everyone, huh?" he whispered. "Then let me live."
And then, something shifted. Micheal's eyes gray, misty, unnatural—began to glow. They were no longer the eyes of a boy desperate to survive. They were something else entirely. Something deeper. Ancient.
Presence Eyes.
Evander saw it. Felt it. And for the first time, he faltered. His hands shook. His breath caught in his throat.
Micheal's lips curled into a wicked smile.
"You know what?" he said quietly.
"What?" Evander muttered, already bracing.
"All that 'together' crap?" Micheal sneered. "Nah."
His voice dropped to a cold, final whisper.
"Listen here, Evander… I. Will. Kill. You."
From above, CORE's eyes gleamed. His smirk widened as he leaned forward in his throne.
"He has awakened," he said, relishing the words.
Evander's eyes widened in horror. The arena seemed to freeze.
CORE stood.
"Stop the trial," he commanded.
A nearby guard turned. "The trials are over! All inmates, return to your cells—"
But CORE held up a hand. "Except MR1."
The others left.
Micheal stayed behind.
And Evander… was never seen again.
Micheal blinked, the memory still fresh, etched into every fiber of his being.
"That was the last time I saw him," he said quietly. "Before CORE pulled me out of the arena and threw me into the future. I never knew what happened to Evander after that… until now."
Shirley's jaw was tight. Tucker looked shaken.
Sage, for once, didn't speak.
Micheal's hands trembled slightly as he added, "Back then, he was strong. Stronger than me. But he didn't have the Presence Eyes. I awakened them during our fight. That's what made CORE stop the Selection."